Mistletoe and Holly
by RZZMG
Summary: Who says romance ends at 40? For an older, more mature Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger, the best is yet to come... It's never too late to fall back in love - with a little help from some meddling friends and some mistletoe (although holly IS prettier)! Dramione/Draco x Hermione. Post-Hogwarts. Romance, Fluff, HEA. Features Hannah, Neville, Ginny, too. One-shot - COMPLETE!


**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

**This story is dedicated to my friend, thesydda on Tumblr, who is sunshine and loveliness, and who makes the world a better place just by being in it. I cherish you, thesydda! Happy Birthday, dahling!****  
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**DISCLAIMER: **"Harry Potter" is the property of J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. This fanfiction was written entirely for fun, not for profit, and no copyright infringement is intended.

**TIMELINE:** Post-Hogwarts-EWE (2023).

**MAIN CHARACTERS FEATURED (alphabetical order, last name):** Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy

**SECONDARY CHARACTERS FEATURED (alphabetical order, last name):** Hannah Abbott-Longbottom, Neville Longbottom, Ginny Weasley

**SUMMARY:** Who says romance ends at 40? For an older, more mature Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger, the best is yet to come... It's never too late to fall in love - especially with a little help from your meddling friends and some mistletoe _(although holly's better)_!

**RATING: **PG-13

**WARNINGS:** Characters a little OOC for the sake of this plot

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**_MISTLETOE AND HOLLY_**

**By: RZZMG**

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**X~~~~~X**

_**1 December, 2023 (Friday morning, just after breakfast)**_

The bloody divorce papers were tied off with a sprig of mistletoe. The Queen of Kiss-Offs had finally given Draco his walking papers.

Of all the slaps in the face that he had tolerated from his wife over the years, this was the last he would ever have to deal with from Astoria – and it actually made him laugh. Did he deserve the witch's scorn? Absolutely not. He'd been a rather accommodating husband for the last eighteen years, giving his not-so-significant-other everything she'd ever materially wanted or needed. She'd lacked for no physical comfort. As for emotional accommodations, well, there had been no delusions about romantic love on either side, as they'd both come into this marriage understanding that their union was all about mutual benefit – his pureblood money plus her pureblood family's good name equalled security for both families. Still, he'd been kind to her, and for the first five years, he'd even tried to cultivate sincere affection between them. It wasn't his fault that Astoria was a cold-hearted harpy, incapable of giving love to him or their son.

She'd taken full advantage of him the whole of their wedded life together, engaging in numerous affairs and whirlwind spending sprees, and he'd tolerated her manipulative pouting and her waspish tongue with nary a complaint, figuring that this was the best he could hope for in a marriage given his low social standing after the war.

He'd never thanked the heavens more than the day she'd come to him two months prior and had demanded a divorce. There had been a wealthy hotel tycoon she'd had her hooks in at the time, and with Scorpius firmly established in his schooling, and the terms of their marriage contract completely fulfilled, she'd wanted to fly the coop.

Draco had easily acquiesced to her request... and that same afternoon, he'd contacted the best wizarding solicitor in all of Europe to make sure Astoria wouldn't see a Knut of his money or any of their son's inheritance.

He'd been successful, and for the first time in their marriage, Astoria had lost.

The mistletoe around the divorce decree was her petty parting shot, he knew.

With a wave of his wand, he checked it for poisons or dark spells. When dealing with a thwarted Greengrass, one could never be too cautious. The spell showed that the decorative plant was safe to touch and the seal on the document safe to break. Still, he waited to open it until his solicitor–recommended by Blaise, who was now on wife number three–arrived. He wanted witnesses, just in case.

He glanced once more at the neatly rolled and tied-off document, and sniffed with disdain.

Bah, Mistletoe! It was nothing more than a poisonous weed – just like Astoria. Draco had always hated the stuff.

**X~~~~~X**

_**1 December, 2023 (Friday all afternoon to evening, lunch to dinner)**_

Ugh, Mistletoe! Hermione had always hated the stuff. She much preferred holly for decorating purposes. It was prettier, with its sharp edges and bright, red berries.

Neville's wife had done it again this December - decorated every beam and crossbar in the Leaky Cauldron with the obnoxious weed, encouraging patrons to give it a good kiss in celebrating the season.

Hermione thought it an invasive and pushy tradition, honestly.

She hoisted her bum up onto one of the leather upholstered stools next to Ginny at the bar. "Humbug! I don't believe in participating in such a silly superstition," she primly stated, firmly shaking her head while pointing up at the white-berried terror above her. "I, for one, will not be kissing the next man who sits down next to me just so that the entire wizarding world can get some perverse delight from my discomfort."

Hannah bounced over, delight in her plump, jolly features. "Oh, come on 'Mione," she wheedled with a sly smile. "It's all in good fun. Besides, how do you expect to meet a man if you won't–"

Hermione cut her friend off before that line of questioning hit the airwaves. The last thing she wanted was to discuss her dateless lifestyle. "I'm perfectly fine flying solo." She gave a very resolute shake of her head. "I don't need a man to be complete."

Next to her Ginny sighed. "'Mione, won't you even consider it? It's been five years."

"I'll have the house soup of the day and some fresh, warm bread with butter, please," she ordered, intentionally ignoring her sister-in-law's attempt to discuss a subject that she considered closed. "And some water with a dash of lemon to drink."

Hannah threw a quick glance at Ginny, but whatever she saw in the redhead's expression told her to give up the chase, for she nodded and wrote down the order on a small pad with a Muggle pencil. "And for you?" she asked Ginny.

"Sounds good. The same, please."

Hannah noted the order was for two and nodded, sauntering off to see it filled without another word.

"So, wasn't it nice to sleep in this morning?" her friend asked, tackling a safer topic.

Hermione shook her head. "I can never sleep in. I was up with the dawn."

Ginny laughed. "Oh, yeah, that's right. I forgot who I was talking to for a minute."

After that, the two best friends spent a leisurely afternoon taking lunch together, and then strolling through Diagon Alley, shopping for Christmas gifts early to get them out of the way. Neither woman enjoyed the increasing crowds that stuffed the walkways and aisles the closer one got to the holiday, so it had become a ritual, of sorts, that they always begin their shopping together on the first day of December, even if it fell on a work day. Both of them had plenty of accrued time-off and their bosses were positively enamoured with them as star employees, so it was an easy thing to request the day to themselves.

They stopped in just about every store on the main strip, including the new ones that had opened up over the last year, and they lamented the stores that had gone out of business as they passed by their empty fronts. And of course, they managed to get a lot of presents crossed off their lists, including going in on combined gifts for all of the Weasley-Potter daughters and sons, to keep their budgets from being blown.

When they made it back to the Cauldron, it was going on dinner. Hermione shrunk her packages and put them in her new charmed bag, and then hugged Ginny goodbye at the Floo. She saw her friend off in a burst of green flame, and was preparing to grab some powder for herself, when Hannah stopped her with a hand on her arm.

"Oh, Hermione, please wait! I wanted to apologize earlier for... well, for being so thoughtless," she stammered. "Won't you stay and let me make it up to you with a drink on the house?"

Neville's wife looked so sincere that Hermione's automatic "thank you, no thank you," response died in her throat. "Alright," she conceded, and Hannah's face lit up.

"Great! You have to try these new concoctions I've whipped up for the holiday!"

The woman hustled her over to a stool at the bar, and Hermione knew she'd been duped. Hannah had a habit of turning friends into guinea pigs for her newest menu ideas. Still, it wasn't so terribly bad a thing, as it was rare the woman ever invented something horrible.

Besides, it was free alcohol. Who didn't like that?

**X~~~~~X**

_**1 December, 2023 (Friday evening to night, dinner to closing)**_

Free booze? Who didn't like that, Draco thought as he'd let Longbottom's wife usher him into a stool at the bar.

Little did he know, but one drink had somehow turned into four in less than an hour. As a man who preferred to nurse a single drink for an hour or more at times, as he'd seen what the stuff had done to his father's health post-war and hadn't wanted to ever tread down that path, he honestly hadn't built up much of a tolerance for the stuff over the years. His tongue and his brain were now beginning to go numb from the high alcohol content in the experimental beverages that the bar mistress was shovelling down his throat.

When the woman walked away, he actually took out his handkerchief and wiped the sweat that had gathered at his brow. Malfoys didn't perspire in public; it just wasn't done.

"Great! You have to try these new concoctions I've whipped up for the holiday!" he heard the proprietess exclaim to another patron, and before he could blink, a body was shoved up onto the bar stool next to him. He and the mysterious, new human test subject bumped elbows.

"Oh, excuse me," the witch to his right stated.

He turned his head...

Well, well. What an unexpected surprise.

"Granger," he tried for suave, but it came out a bit slurred.

"Malfoy?" she greeted him with a genuinely surprised, slightly panicked expression.

He and The Golden Trio of Potter, Weasley and Granger had called a truce after the post-war trials; they'd avoided him, and he'd avoided them. Simple, really.

That plan had worked rather well for several years for all of them, but then one winter, his mother had been stricken low by a woman's illness that the Healers at St. Mungo's had said they had no cure for. Granger had appeared in their private room at the hospital a few days later, sticking her nose once more where it didn't belong. She'd heard of Narcissa's illness from his Aunt Andromeda, who'd been at her sister's side on and off from the onset of the symptoms.

Hermione had offered him and his father the last saving grace on the planet – a treatment that the wizarding world hadn't considered: Muggle surgery and radiation treatment.

The non-magical doctors cut his mother's womb out, and it had taken six additional weeks of seemingly non-stop exposure to these invisible waves of light from a big, white machine – energy that made his mother very ill, and at times, had her crying from the pain - but in the end, her life had been saved. She'd been very fragile and sickly for years after as her body struggled to regain its health, but she had survived – and all thanks to the woman sitting next to him now.

After that, his entire relationship with Hermione Granger had changed...

He wondered if she missed their once-a-week coffee dates at The Brew as much as he did.

**X~~~~~X**

_**1 December, 2023 (Friday evening to night, dinner to closing)**_

It had been five years since Hermione had last sat and shared a drink of any kind with Draco Malfoy. Did he miss their once-upon-a-time weekly coffee sit-ins at the trendy little Muggle coffeehouse, The Brew, as much as she did?

Hannah set a piece of paper and a pencil before Hermione. "Malfoy's already done this taste-test," the woman explained, "but I'd like you to write down for me your thoughts about the drinks I'm going to set down before you, if you don't mind. The bar is picking up the tab on these, of course." She reached back behind the bar and lifted up a martini glass filled with a mocha-coloured beverage and garnished with a mint leaf, settling it down on a cocktail napkin before her. "I call this first one my Mint-Cream Mistletoe. Give it a go, will you, and let me know what you think."

"You'll like it," Draco predicted around a smirk, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. "It's creamy choco-mint. The only thing missing to make it your perfect drink is a shot of espresso."

"Hush, you," Hannah chastised him. "No influencing her thoughts."

Malfoy put his hands up in a show of innocence. "Whatever you say."

Uncomfortable with sitting so near the man that had an uncanny ability to make her heart leap into her throat, Hermione fidgeted in her stool. "Maybe this isn't such a good idea," she hedged, keeping her attention affixed on Neville's wife. "I mean, I should be going home. I have things to do and... and I haven't even had dinner yet. They say drinking on an empty stomach is a bad idea."

Hannah had a solid counter for that. "When's the last time you were out on a Friday night, Hermione? You work too hard and never play. If anyone is owed a fun time, it's you! Live it up a little, witch. 'Tis the season!" She nudged the signature drink closer to Hermione's hands. "Tell you what: the drinks _and_ supper are on the house for you tonight. Just finish the taste test and I'll cook you up something delish."

Hermione grumbled, unable to find any argument that wouldn't end up insulting to one or both nearby parties. So, she stayed put and reached for the glass.

"Excellent idea, Longbottom! I'll take mine lightly-salted, whatever you're serving," Draco piped in. He gave Hannah a relaxed, easy-going smile. When the woman threw him a scowl, he held up his taste-test slip of paper with his answers already filled in. "You _did_ want this, right?" Her frown deepened, but she didn't dispute. Throwing her hands in the air, she huffed and stomped off. "Lightly-salted," he called out the reminder to her retreating back with a triumphant grin and a wicked chuckle.

"You realize she's going to dump an entire shaker on your food now, don't you," Hermione felt it prudent to warn him.

Malfoy turned that dazzling smile on her. "Then you'll share yours with me, so I don't starve."

Hermione indelicately snorted. This was definitely the Draco Malfoy she remembered... and had secretly missed.

**X~~~~~X**

_**1 December, 2023 (Friday evening to night, dinner to closing)**_

Only his Hermione could make such a rude noise so endearing. Gods, how he'd secretly missed her!

"How have you been?" she asked him then, hesitant.

That tremble in her voice hadn't been there nine years before, when they'd first had coffee together. Back then, she'd been confident, even in her gentleness. But then, her ginger-haired husband had been alive at that time, and he'd been the safety net that had kept them from crossing unforgivable lines (because, really, Draco would have cheated on Astoria in a heartbeat if Hermione had only given him the nod of interest, and so it wasn't _his _spouse that had stood in their way).

Nothing was blocking their path now, he realised. Perhaps she subconsciously understood that, too.

"I'm happily divorced as of today, thank you for asking," he replied, watching her response carefully.

Hermione started, looking a bit alarmed and excited by the news at the same time. Her eyes dropped to her drink a moment later to attempt to hide her expression from him. "Is that so?" she asked.

"It is most definitely and thankfully so." He gave a small huff of amusement. "Astoria finally found someone else to latch her greedy hooks into, so... I'm free, thank Merlin."

She pursed her lips together, as if considering what to say next. "I... I'm sorry it didn't work out," she gave the polite response.

Draco snorted, took a sip of his beverage. "I'm not. She could never make me happy." He paused, mulling over the wisdom of his next move before deciding to go with what his instinct was screaming at him to try. Leaning a bit towards her ear as if imparting a secret, he whispered low and soft, "There's only ever been one woman who could."

A small shiver rocked Granger's body, and she took a heavy swallow of her drink.

With nothing standing in their way, here it finally was, nervous tendrils filled with excitement and wariness creeping up between them, making them both keenly aware of their relationship availability and the repressed sexual attraction that had always sizzled between them.

But he could tell by the way her white teeth tugged upon her bottom lip that she was still a tad doubtful. Not wanting to make her any more self-conscious, he leaned away, backing off a bit. He didn't want her to doubt them, if they decided to pick back up where they'd left off years ago. He wanted her as he remembered her, then: self-assured, sharp, and feisty. Putting pressure on her wasn't the way to get that. He had to relax her – relax them both, honestly, for he was rearing to go in his pants and needed a time-out before he did something really juvenile right there at the bar.

To distract them both, he raised his martini glass in a playful salute, trying to keep the mood carefree. After all, he had a lot of celebrate tonight, didn't he? "To a new life."

Hermione glanced back down at the half-devoured drink in her hand and raised it in to his toast. "Well, it's no secret that I never liked Astoria, so I suppose congratulations are in order. To a new life."

Their glasses met in an equitable salute, clinking together. They drank at the same time. He finished his in one go. She swallowed most of hers. Clearly, they both needed some liquid courage right then to proceed.

"You're right," she stated, giving him a tentative smile over the mint garnish on the lip of her glass, "it's missing the espresso, but it is good."

Feeling emboldened by the alcohol and her response, he reached out to gently pinch her forearm as he'd used to do, and threw her a sly grin. "Told you so."

They spent the entire night getting reacquainted, moving their party to a booth after the first thirty minutes. Hermione tried all four of the same alcoholic concoctions that he had, noting her thoughts on the paper provided. Draco, of course, helped her out with suggestions to adequately describe each drink –_"Oh, I don't know... 'distilled with the water from a tub of dirty socks' seems an adequate description to me, Granger"_– and their banter soon turned a mite flirty as they growled and griped and laughed over each review.

Once Hermione's taste-test was finished and their papers turned-in, Hannah had brought them each a bowl of traditional English beef stew that was heaped with trim cuts of meat, carrots, onions, celery and potatoes and lightly seasoned with garlic and pepper. Freshly baked bread, still warm from the oven, and a soft pat of butter accompanied the meal. He and Granger pretend-fought over the last slice of bread, and he conceded to giving it up to her for a boon to be required of her later. She arched her eyebrow at that, but agreed.

As the night wore on, neither of them seemed willing to get up and call it over. Instead, they continued to sit and enjoy each other's company, talking, people-watching, sharing a piece of berry pie, and instinctively sliding closer across the booth's leather seat as the minutes ticked by.

Draco couldn't honestly remember a night he'd had so much fun, not in a long time. Astoria had practically alienated him from his friends, as none of them had liked her either, and the one _actual_ affair he'd engaged in during his marriage had been three years ago, and had been out of desperation for a physical connection with a woman and a terrible loneliness. It had only lasted a few weeks, and had ended when he finally admitted that the only reason he'd chosen the witch was that the woman had looked remarkably like Granger with her long, curly brown hair and her doe-brown eyes. He'd been attempting to replace Hermione with a poor substitute.

The night he'd broken it off with his mistress had been the night he'd finally admitted to himself that he'd fallen in love with Hermione Granger. From the moment she'd appeared in his mother's hospital doorway and had offered them all a chance, he'd been smitten. Over the years (and dozens of cups of coffee) that had followed, he'd fallen hard. He'd never touched her in a sexual manner, however, no matter his longing to do so, respecting her vows to Weasley as sacred to her. He'd never wanted to make her choose or to feel guilty. He'd loved her too much for that.

When her husband had died, Granger had tearfully pushed Draco away. He'd done as she'd wanted, respecting her need to mourn, but he'd missed her every day and had always hoped in the secret corners of his heart that someday she'd want to resume what they'd had.

If tonight was any indication, it seemed he hadn't been the only one pinning a hope. She'd missed him, too. But in what capacity: as friend, or more?

There was only one way to find out: a kiss under the mistletoe ought to be a good place to start the ball rolling... and if she wasn't receptive, he could always blame it on the holiday tradition and the booze later.

**X~~~~~X**

_**1 December, 2023 (Friday evening to night, dinner to closing)**_

Hermione desperately wanted Draco to kiss her already! The mistletoe hanging above their booth was the perfect excuse for them to snog. It would be a safe way to test the waters this way, and if it was a bad kiss, well, they could always blame it on the ridiculous holiday tradition and the drink.

The truth was, tonight had been brilliant. She hadn't felt so alive since before Ron had died. She'd forgotten how charming and witty Draco could be, and his snarky side... Godric, she loved his dark humour!

Why had she stayed away for so very long? Why had she denied her feelings for him for years? Why hadn't she tried to contact him in the long years since Ron's death?

She glanced at him through her lashes as she sipped some lemon water. Merlin's bones, but he the years had been kind to him. His hair was receding a bit at the temples, and there were lines at the corners of his eyes now, but his lips still looked so kissable! They were pink, well-hydrated (she detested the feel of chapped lips), and frankly, looked to be begging for it from her.

She _could_ just initiate a kiss between them, rather than wait for him to make the first move. He definitely seemed interested by the way his arm was lying across the back of the booth with a casual openness, offering her a chance to come closer. She was sitting inches away, her thigh almost touching his. All she had to do was tilt her chin up and close the distance...

Hermione's head was swimming a bit still from the alcohol, but she knew what she was doing when she boldly looked up into his face. Once she'd captured his full attention, she dropped her eyes to his mouth, making her wishes known. She knew by the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed that he had read her intentions, and by the way he licked his lips that they were on the same page this time. The tingling interest between them suddenly became something heated, more intense.

The hand on the back of the lounger moved and his fingers were now playing with her hair. His arm curled slightly in the doing, forcing her closer, closing the bubble of intimacy around them.

"Tell me, Granger: would you say that following cultural traditions is important?" he murmured, nudging his chin up to indicate the mistletoe hanging over their heads.

Hermione gave the pretty, green weed a quick glance. "Absolutely," she whispered with her heart in her mouth. She met his challenging gaze head-on. "I'm big on respecting old customs."

The left corner of his lip twitched with amusement. "Good. Me, too." Closing the distance between their mouths quickly, he dipped his head and captured her lips with his own.

The kiss was butterfly soft, but filled with a wealth of feeling. It was sweet and thrilling and terrifying – everything a first kiss should be. It made Hermione's heart pound and her body shiver.

"Again," she whispered when he pulled back a bit to give them both time to consider what they were doing. She didn't want any more hesitation, not then – not after waiting so long for this to happen. "Please, don't stop."

His answering groan was husky and filled with hunger. The hand that had been fiddling with her curls now grabbed onto the back of her head, while the other hand cupped her cheek, holding them in the moment. His tongue parted her lips, thrusting with bold strokes as the repressed passion between them was given its freedom finally, after so many long years.

Hermione clung to Draco's robes; her fingers wrapped around the lapels of his shirt's collar, as she lost herself in him. Her heart trembled with wild desire as he pressed her back into the darker corner of their private booth and feasted at her mouth with unapologetic greed. Their connection was explosive and life-affirming all at once.

"Bloody hell," he whispered with awe and reverence as he pulled back a fraction of an inch, only to drop back down upon her, as desperate as she was for them not to be parted even by words.

They kissed until her lips were nearly raw before she made up her mind about inviting him back to her flat for the night. Maybe it was rushed, maybe they would wake up tomorrow morning and call it a drunken one-off not to be repeated, but for tonight, she wanted him in her bed, lying among her sheets as she sat astride him. Ginny and Hannah had been right; she'd been denying herself for too long. That it was Draco she was finally willing to take a chance on just made it better. They'd had an established friendship and an emotional connection once, and she knew in her gut that she could still trust him like that, despite the years that had separated them.

She could do this... live again. With him.

Hermione broke the kiss and met his eye. "Come home with me," she murmured, her cheeks red hot. "Stay the night."

Draco's slow, sensual smile was as wicked as the heat in his gaze. "Do we need to take the mistletoe with us?"

She chuckled, ignoring the giddy, excitable butterflies fluttering around in her belly. "No, I think we're capable of getting back to this point again without it, don't you?"

He reached out and cupped her cheek, stroking the pad of his thumb across her lower lip. "Absolutely." A cheeky smirk wound its way up his cheek. "Will you have coffee with me in the morning, too?"

Hermione fervently nodded. "Absolutely."

**X~~~~~X**

_**1 December, 2023 (Friday evening to night, dinner to closing)**_

Hannah watched as Malfoy guided Granger to the Leaky's Floo. Despite the grey streaking Hermione's dark hair, and the thinning of Draco's, the two looked like a couple of young fools in love – tossing suggestive glances back and forth as they hurried across the room, tightly holding onto each other's hand along the way, their cheeks both stained pink with first-time shyness and excitement. At the giant hearth, they individually tossed down the sparkly Floo powder and called out the same address –hers– and in explosive puffs of green smoke they were both gone.

Well, that took care of that!

Neville came around the bar from where he'd been secretly spying on the two. He grabbed Hannah around the waist and hugged her tight. She melted into her husband's embrace, loving how warm he was and how he felt like home.

"I have to say, I'm impressed," he admitted, kissing her cheek. "I never thought I'd _ever_ see that."

"You really should learn not to underestimate me," Hannah jokingly bragged. "I have an eye for these things, you know."

Neville chuckled and nodded. "That you do. First Lavender and Seamus, then Luna and Blaise, now 'Mione and Malfoy." He shook his head in stunned disbelief. "I still can't believe it. How'd you know?"

Hannah blew hot air on a glass and wiped it down with a clean rag. "One, they were totally hot for each other back in school – all that name-calling and shouting was so obviously foreplay. Two, my mum owned The Brew, a coffehouse in Muggle London, where years ago, 'Mione and Malfoy used to meet up for a cuppa. That was before Ron's death." She put the glass back on the rack and picked up another one, drying it with the rag in her hand, too. "It was all above board then as far as I could tell –I used to manage the place for mum and would see them come in once a week– but I could tell he wanted more. She was the one keeping him at bay, but their friendship was obviously a close one, and I could tell by the way they were together that she cherished it. Those kinds of feelings don't just magically go away."

"So, you and Ginny took a chance and played matchmakers again."

Hannah shrugged. "Why not? 'Mione needed the nudge. She's too wonderful a woman to waste, and Ginny and I were bored with her stubborn pride getting in the way. Alcohol and proximity are the two best ways to bring people together for a little reckless humping, so..."

"And your 'taste test' just happened to be the perfectly concocted excuse to get them both here tonight, I suppose?"

Hannah shrugged, feigning innocence. "Hey, I just supplied the inhibition. They're the ones who took advantage of it."

"I thought Malfoy was married," her husband pointed out, frowning.

"He was until today. Divorce was finalized hours ago, with that bitch-witch of his getting little in the settlement. Good riddance to bad rubbish, I say."

"But how did you-?"

Hannah winked at her man over her shoulder. "There are perks to owning a bar that everyone comes through." She held up the remnants of one of her holiday drink experiments and stirred it with a straw. "And booze loosens even the tightest lips." She handed the drink to her husband. "Here, try this and tell me what you think."

Neville, who knew this game well, warily took the drink from her hand and sipped it. He made a face. "Blech! It tastes like dirty sock water."

Hannah _tsk'd_, and murmured under her breath, "The cheeky bastard was right." Taking the glass from her husband's hand, she dumped the contents down the drain, and set the glass aside to be cleaned later. "Oh well, back to the drawing board."

Just as she was rounding the bar, she looked up and spied something green at the top of her vision. Inspiration struck in a nanosecond, as it usually did with her, and she whirled on her husband, excited by her new idea. Neville would have the answer to her next question, Herbologist extraordinaire that he was.

"Say, what do you think it would take to make mistletoe non-poisonous and edible?"

He blinked at her. Twice. "Uh... I don't think that's possible. All species of mistletoe are poisonous to humans to ingest. We don't even use it in potions."

She snapped her fingers in a 'shucks' motion. "Ah, well... at least we can still use it to decorate. It is awfully pretty for a bush."

Neville shrugged. "It's a parasitic weed, actually. Personally, I've always found it to be a rather ugly plant. Myself, I prefer holly."

_**~FIN~**_

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**Author's Final Notes:**

**Please review!**


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